Chains
by Rhaegal Nymeria Stark
Summary: Being chained is being a slave and ironically, who would understand being a slave better than the crippled lord Bran Stark?


Disclaimer: I do not own Osha, Rickon or Bran

Rating: K+

Genre: General/Friendship? Maybe something else?

**Take note, this is a companion piece to another fic of mine called "The Future King," it's in the "A Song Of Ice And Fire" section, so you'd have to look in the "books" part of fanfiction and it wouldn't be here. (Not sure how that makes sense for me but it does)**

**(Takes place During "Clash of Kings, before Theon Greyjoy's takeover")**

**Take Note: This whole story is a Flashback!**

**Flashback: Six Years Ago:**

**Chains:**

The crippled boy did not take kindly to those that were without compassion. He never did. He might have been the young lord of Winterfell, but he respected the lives and pride of all that resided there. Young Bran Stark was only eleven winters old now. It had been only a few months since his father's execution, and he now had more than become almost used to the thoughts of blood spilling, bones being cut off and dismembered. He was very nearly jaded.

He saw the blood thirsty ways his brother, Robb worked out the dealings between his "alleys," and understood the ways that war and death worked in this Realm. However, aside from being without tears and pretending that he was not suffering, Bran made the greatest effort to treat all the subjects within Winterfell with kindness and to be fair to all. For while he was the oldest Stark heir behind these walls, his word was law.

However, his disturbance over what he was witnessing at the moment, made him almost at loss for words.

"Hodor! Hodor!" The large man mumbled, his voice scared as he tried to curl up in a ball and evade the kicks of several of the men in Winterfell. Bran Stark had been sitting upon his chair, writing documents for his family as he had been ordered to when he had heard the laughter of a group of men that were getting drunk. They were gorging themselves on the finest wine and brew that were in the walls of this fortress and it apparently had taken its toll on them.

Now they were here, overtaken by the euphoria of being drunk and were entertaining themselves in their made glee by abusing Hodor, the Stark family's incompetent but faithful servant.

Bran flinched at the sight. He instantly dropped his quill and yelled, "Stop that! Stop it!" His mouth gaped open and looked at his servant with pure agony and pity, "Please, stop! Hodor! Are you alright?"

Bran wanted to get off the chair and drag himself on the rough ground to get to his large servant and friend, but he knew he couldn't. The thugs whirled on the young lord, eyes glaring. A slim, blonde haired one in particular started spitting out, "What do you want you-" He stopped midsentence, however, when he and the other men realized just who they were sending hateful looks to.

"My lord," The slim one said, dropping his bottle to the ground, ignoring it as it shattered and he kneeled, as did the rest of the brutes. The blonde haired man looked up at Bran, emerald eyes filled with fear, "Forgive my rudeness. I didn't realize that it was you!"

A few years ago, Bran would have been softened by such fear and would have shown mercy. However, this was not a few years ago. Now, Bran knew what being authoritarian was. He simply stared, unwavering in his opinion of these men.

"And did you also not realize," Bran said quietly, though loud enough for all in the range of that area to hear, "That this man," Bran gestured to the still shaking Hodor, "Is an extremely loyal and protected subject to the Stark family?"

The figure behind the blonde; a much broader shouldered man with wild brown hair said defensively as he glared at the injured and terrified giant servant, "He's just an idiot. He can barely say anything except his own name. He doesn't have any intelligence, he's no more than an animal, what use is he?"

Bran found what little patience he had for these men diminishing. He felt both his hands tightening on the table in front of him. Luckily, before he could say or do anything that he'd later on regret, he heard a familiar and not at all unwelcomed voice cut in.

"No intelligence?" The low, gruff, but oddly soothing voice of a woman said from behind Bran, "Well then, I'd say he's only slightly more intelligent than ye are?" The woman who laughed this, stopped next to Bran, catching the boy's attention, "Ye men are all animals too, and yet ye have even less use than that unintelligible oaf there. Now ye obey yer lord and leave."

Bran stared up at the wildling woman next to his table. Osha, a wildling that had been with a small band that had threatened his life for his horse was now standing before many ungrateful men of Winterfell, now protecting the words of the young lord whom she once put in danger.

One of the men, the blonde one this time, opened his mouth to protest before Bran finally found his temper again and snapped, "You do as she said." He glared, "I gave an order. That man, Hodor, is a loyal subject and has done much more for my family than any of you ever have. Now leave and let us make sure that there are few injuries to him."

The many men got up, knees bruised from contact with the rocky earth. They sent dirty glares to both Osha and Hodor before turning and leaving, heading towards the gates outside.

Bran, once making sure they were all out of sight, looked back at Osha, not sure whether to be grateful, be shocked that she was defending his words, and not even sure what to say to be honest. Osha got rid of any thought Bran might have had about saying something as she walked over to Hodor, who was slowly getting up, shaking a little and looked very dazed.

The wild woman checked the large man over before looking at Bran sternly.

"He needs to go to the medics, boy." Bran nodded. He hated that he couldn't walk. Though if he even _could _walk, he'd only would be about the size of half of one of Hodor's legs, he'd probably be of no use helping Hodor to the medics any more than he was as a cripple.

Osha leaned down and grabbed Hodor's arms, throwing it over her shoulders and slowly lifting the large man up from the ground. Osha stumbled slightly as she moved the man up and stabilized him so that she now had him walking bit by bit towards where the medics were.

"Hell, this man's heavy," Osha drawled in her gruff accent, "It's even harder with these damned chains on."

Bran looked down and noticed the chains between Osha's ankles. Bran flinched. He hated the thought of anyone being enslaved or being treated unfairly at Winterfell, and though Osha was one of the four wildlings that had jeopardized him, he hated seeing her in chains.

Bran, in that moment, made up his mind. He turned towards where he saw his advisor, Master Luwin approaching. He more than likely was coming because he heard all the commotion in the courtyard here.

"Luwin!" Bran yelled, without the formalities, "Do you know where the keys are to Osha's chains? Please get them for me if you do!"

This brought two reactions. Luwin seemed startled by this command, and Bran felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned to see Osha's astonished look fixed upon him. He wasn't sure why this seemed like such a terrible thing. Osha had told him once when they were discussing the "old gods," that she believed she was a slave here. Bran didn't want her to think that. The first part of destroying whatever beliefs that had of her being a slave was getting rid of those chains.

Luwin, the still surprised didn't hesitate again when Bran turned and looked at his master more pointedly. The old mentor turned back the way he came and walked as fast as someone his age could towards where Bran assumed the keys were. As Luwin practically became a small speck, given how far he was walking, Bran's attention was caught when he heard Osha's voice questioning him.

"Boy, what are ye doin'? I'm not complainin,' but wasn't the point of keepin' me alive was so that I'd stay here and would be punished for threatenin' ye?"

Bran met Osha's eyes, his own filled with an unknown and unrecognizable emotion that almost made Osha step back, were it not for the heavy load she was carrying that was the incompetent man slung over her.

Bran said in a small tone, though Osha heard it nonetheless, "Your friend might have threatened me, and you might have tried to steal from me and take my horse, but you gave yourself up and even if you didn't, you don't deserve to be chained up and especially not killed. I don't see you as a slave. And no one else should either."

Osha and Bran held each other's gaze for a good three minutes. Osha had never heard of this type of thing. Robb Stark, she believed was a good man, but he still had insisted that she be in chains. And most lords, especially lords from the South, Osha had always believed were far less honorable than the Northerners. Theon Greyjoy, in her mind was solid evidence of this. However, even if Bran Stark was from a Northern family, wouldn't he still want someone like her in chains where she couldn't attack anyone?

Bran then lowered his gaze to look at Hodor. "Does he look okay?" He asked Osha worriedly.

Osha, broken out of her reverie, glanced down at the large man and answered the small lord, "I'm not sure. He's bleedin' and has bruises all over him, but he doesn't look too badly hurt. He just needs to be patched up."

The small boy nodded. He couldn't do anything now except free Osha of her chains and help her get Hodor to the medics. He heard the rushing of moving feet to the right of him and turned to see Luwin coming again, this time running as fast as his elderly legs could carry him. His white-grey robes swished along the stones of the ground as he moved over to where the three of them were.

Luwin reached Osha and Hodor. He looked back at Bran once more and the boy nodded, not willing to put up with any argument contrary to his orders. Luwin lowered himself down enough so that he was on his knees and leaning down enough so that his nose was only inches from the lock between the chain on the woman's ankles. His wrinkled, weak hand reached over and inserted the key into the lock, twisting till there was a clicking sound and Luwin reached his other hand over and pushed the lock that was now unlocked and Bran watched as the lock fell to the floor and the "clanking" sound of it could be heard loudly in the courtyard.

The still stunned Osha moved away a little from Luwin and stretched her feet wider, the chains around her feet untangling, due to the lack of the lock there. Her ankles could now spread because the chain had been loosened completely, but there were still cuffs on her actual ankles. She was not entirely free of the shackles.

Luwin looked at his lord and Bran said nodding again, "And unlock the cuffs on her ankles, Luwin. Take all of the chains off of her." Luwin, without another word or gesture of questioning or protest, unlocked both of the devices, keeping the cuffs closed. The shackles on both of Osha's ankles were free and she no longer had any chains on her.

Luwin pulled both of the cuffs off of her legs, freeing her completely. Osha couldn't move much, again, due to Hodor, however she did move back a little. Enough so that she was away from the shackles and now without any contact with them.

Osha glanced questioningly at Bran and she saw the boy smile at her hopefully.

"You should help her get Hodor to the medics, Luwin." Bran said without looking at his mentor.

The old master, not having any idea what was happening between Osha and Bran Stark, but he did as he was told and went over past the fallen chains and cuffs, picking Hodor's other arm and side up, and he walked with Osha to the infirmary.

However, though all three of them were walking in the same direction, Osha's eyes never left Bran's. They just stayed on the boy the whole time until the three of them were out of sight and then Bran went back to his work, Osha still on his mind.

**A Few Hours Later: The Field outside of Winterfell:**

Bran stared down into the water, seeing his reflection, as if for the first time. Since Hodor was recovering, he got another tall servant to bring him out here and away from the castle so that he could have some time to think. He sometimes hated it in there. It was funny; Bran was completely vulnerable right now. He had no bows or arrows or daggers on him, he had no horse and he was just lying helplessly on his stomach, looking down at the water, and yet he had never felt more content.

In the wild; the fresh air, he felt at the most peace here.

The servant that had carried him here; Marcala took no mind of the boy. He had simply viewed him as wounded child that needed his own time alone. That, to a certain extent was true. Bran certainly needed time alone right now, and he felt wounded. The death of his father, his mother and both of his brothers _and_ both of his sisters being gone was starting to send his mind into disarray. The only people he had left were his little brother Rickon, Luwin, his mentor, his wolf, Summer, Hodor…and now, he suspected, Osha as well.

Now here, at the age of eleven and almost completely alone; no Jon Snow or Robb to father him since they left, like his own father was dead, no mother, and no Sansa or Arya to play with, Bran had to hold on desperately to what he had before it was destroyed in front of him. Bran squeezed the grass next to the pond he was looking into between his small fists as he thought this all over.

His thoughts were deterred again when he heard Osha's voice.

"Ye shouldn't be out here, boy," Osha chuckled to the left of him, "Yer farther from the castle than ye should be."

Bran turned his head, seeing the now very free and unbound Osha walking closer, smirking quite widely, strutting forward as if she owned the field that they were in. Marcala removed a dagger from his belt and held it out protectively in front of him.

"Back, wildling." He spat, "Just because you've been unchained, doesn't mean that you're privileged to come close to him without a guard nearby."

Osha's smirk only widened. "And here ye are. Ye can protect the lad just fine." She glanced her eyes at the boy on the ground, "I just want to properly thank the young lord for releasin' me from my chains."

Bran cocked an eyebrow at the wild woman's smug expression. He had never known what to make of the woman, but he knew that he liked her. She was interesting. Strange, different. "It's okay, Marcala." He told the guard, "Put the dagger away. Osha just wants to talk."

Marcala hesitated, looking from Osha to the young lord before placing his dagger back into its leather sheath and just resumed to just watch the wildling carefully. Osha took advantage of this and moved closer to the lying down boy. "Boy," She said, almost grinning, "That was a very risky thin' ye did. When you had yer master unchain me, I could have run away."

As Osha kneeled down until she was crouching down right next to Bran and was now at eye level with him, Bran blinked. He wasn't expecting that. If Osha were to run away, why would she tell him?

However, Bran said immediately what was on his mind. "I'm happy you didn't leave." He said quietly, but both Osha and Marcala heard.

Osha's eyes widened at that declaration. Bran continued, realizing that there was no turning back from what he had already started to say, "I like it when you're here." Bran then considered something that he didn't like the thought of, but since he wanted to be fair to everyone, he knew that he had to ask it, to make sure that Osha was happy. He didn't want to make her feel trapped.

"Do you want to leave?" He asked, staring into her eyes, "Do you want to go back into the forest and run North? I don't know if I have the power, even if my brother Robb is away, but I could try to make the rest of the guards leave you alone while you leave Winterfell, free."

It was as if, in that moment, like time just froze. Bran said nothing, awaiting Osha's response. Osha was now so shocked that she couldn't even think of what to say. Marcala had heard everything and was staring at both parties of this conversation. To be honest, Marcala didn't know what to do or say. He had always known servants as merely servants. And he never, ever took into consideration that one of the Starks might actually _release_ one of them willingly.

Bran awaited Osha's answer, despite the wildling's astounded expression. He didn't want Osha to go. He wanted her to stay here with him. He knew that what he felt was a selfish child's desire, but last time he checked, he _was _a child. However, he knew that he was also a lord's heir and a lord had to look out for the wishes of "the people."

He wanted to do for Osha what she wanted, even though an even stronger part of him wanted her to stay.

Osha finally took a breath. "I need some time," She answered, glancing at Marcala, "I need to think about it." She cocked her head at Bran, "Ye are a very strange lad, ye know that?"

Bran shrugged. He had been paralyzed below the waist, he suspected that he could take the occasional verbal jab at him, let alone a gentle and playful one like what Osha had just said.

Bran turned back down towards the still pond, "You're free to go then. I won't stop you. You're free, that is if you want to go." Bran kept his voice neutral. He had heard how his father and brothers spoke in court during serious matters. He knew to make sure to not let his feelings affect his voice.

Osha still stared at the young lord. What a strange puzzle this boy was. He was just a child and yet he was making decisions that at least seemed selfless. But she was observant. She could tell certain things about people. Especially this boy. He was a child just like any other child in the world, only born with many obligations. He had selfish feelings just like every child did. He had even admitted himself that he was happy that she hadn't gone. That was certainly an indication of what the boy wanted.

She knew the boy missed his mother. She had heard the stories about each of the Stark family departing from Winterfell as soon as they had contact with the Lannisters. Osha had heard about that family, and none of what she heard about the Lannisters was good. All of Bran's family, except for his little brother, Rickon had left, including the boy's mother.

Osha sighed, getting up from her crouching position. "I'll think on it, okay?" She said again, not sure what else she could do. She did indeed need to think about this. She by no means was the type to be able live inside stone walls. She hated feeling like she was trapped. She was a wildling after all. She was born, raised and taught in the wild. All she knew was the wilderness and being able to take what she wanted without a care and survival. Her time here had only been due to being captured, nothing more. Now being here and looking after this odd little brat, she wasn't sure what to do.

Marcala decided to give his words, "If you will do nothing else except waste the lord's time," He sneered, "Then go. Do not disturb him any longer with your presence."

Bran turned to snap at Marcala but Osha spoke before he could. "I didn't realize ye made the lord's decisions for him," Osha chuckled, clearly finding Marcala funny, "I never meant to disturb him, though I'm not sure how I'm wastin' the lord's time when he's just wastin' his own time lyin' here instead of tendin' to his duties."

Marcala's eyes widened at such a brash remark. "Why you impudent, little-" He growled, stepping forward, but he was stopped when he heard Bran's next orders.

"Marcala!" Bran said loudly, making sure that his guard heard, "Osha was stating her opinion. You don't have any reason to get angry at her just because I'm prince. Leave her alone." Osha smirked down at the boy, pleased to see him showing some assertion. She then looked at Marcala, smirk widening at his angered demeanor.

Marcala huffed and stepped back, leaving the two of them be.

"Thank ye, lord Bran," Osha said in a mock voice, though the look she and Bran were sharing was a pleasant and friendly one, "Now I'll be goin'." She walked past Marcala and headed towards Winterfell. Bran smiled after her. He liked that she had been completely honest about him being here. There really wasn't any other reason for him to be out on the ground in front of the pond except to avoid his studies and not have to think about life. Osha was probably the most honest person he had ever met. He liked that about her.

As Osha's form disappeared within the many trees and the many leaves blowing through the vicious wind, Bran decided that he'd do whatever he could for those that felt less than others within Winterfell. He didn't want Osha to leave Winterfell, but he wouldn't keep anyone here unless they wanted to stay.

Later, after another hour or so, Marcala had been ordered by Bran to bring him back to Winterfell. Marcala placed the boy on one of the seats next to the stables as Bran had asked. Marcala stood up completely after doing so. He growled out, still angered by the wildling woman, "My apologies my lord for that woman's disrespect. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

An emotion that usually didn't rise within Bran was now the most dominant feeling that he had ever felt. Anger. Rage.

"You will do no such thing!" Bran had yelled and was now staring at his servant with such rage that Marcala almost stepped back, "My brother might be away for now, but while he and mother are gone, I have authority here and I order that you leave Osha alone, permanently. I'm happy that she's honest." Bran lifted his head so as to look more authoritarian, "Unlike most of you. Understand?"

Marcala actually looked intimidated. "Yes my lord," He mumbled out, "I'll never even speak harshly to the woman again, let alone raise a hand to her. Will that be all, my lord?"

Bran nodded and Marcala walked, in a strangely fast fashion, as if wanting to get away from the boy. Bran watched him go and considered what he had ordered. He had no regret about what he had said. Marcala and all the other servants; they were kind because they were expected to be. They were not honest because they were under obligation, what was more, some of them, even feared for their lives if they spoke out of turn.

Osha held no such obligation or fear. She spoke the way she felt. Bran suspected that that was why he liked being around her so much. It was refreshing to be with someone who didn't just bark the way her master ordered her to. In fact, Bran suspected that he'd be disappointed if Osha even _saw_ anyone as her master. She was a free spirit after all. She was sort of beautiful in a strange, wild way.

Out of the corner of the boy's eyes, Bran saw the wild woman coming near. His smile broke out again. Smiling was something he hadn't been used to in a while. It usually only came when Summer or Rickon were around nowadays. It was a surprise that this strange woman could get such a positive reaction from him.

Osha got to where the boy was seated. Her eyes knowledgeable, but still wild and humored. She sauntered to him and now leaned over him, left elbow up against the stone wall, smiling as if there was nothing to worry about.

Bran wasn't sure entirely what to say. Once again, Osha had had the opportunity to leave, but didn't. He certainly wasn't complaining, but he was startled by it. He wanted to speak but was so unsure of what to say that the question he managed out was not the one he wanted to ask.

"Do you know if Hodor is doing better?" He questioned without meaning to. At this, he felt an unusual sense of embarrassment that he wasn't familiar with enter him. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like he had just made a complete fool of himself by asking that question when he hadn't intended to.

Osha's smile widened. "Don't worry about him, boy," She answered, nodding to the infirmary, "The big man's just fine. The cuts are goin' to heal very soon since they ain't deep and the bruises ain't that large."

Bran had seen Hodor's "wounds" himself, even if it was from a distance, but he nodded anyway. "Good," He mumbled, "Good." He hesitated, still not sure what to say. For some reason, he wanted to plead with Osha to stay, but he knew that that was more than selfish and unreasonable. He hated that his parents, sisters and brothers left, but he had no right to keep someone here against her will.

He was only eleven but he had to make decisions here, in absence of his brothers and father.

He grit his teeth together and prepared himself. He looked up at Osha seriously. "Osha," He started, "Did you decide whether you want to leave or not?"

Osha was herself, not entirely sure where to go from where she was about to speak. She was going to give him a simple answer and even she had been shocked by the choice that she was about to make. Wildlings were free. They did as they pleased. They didn't care what anyone else thought. Wildlings took what they wanted and needed and were unapologetic about it and gave nothing back.

So naturally, the conclusion that Osha came to was a huge surprise to herself.

Osha stared at him, her eyes suddenly becoming humorless. She looked as if she was deep in thought, but she gave him her response only a few seconds later.

Her eyes narrowed as she spoke. "No," She told him, not quite sure what to think of this new development, "No, I don't want to go. I'll stay with ye, Bran."

Now, after everything Bran had said to startle Osha, it was Bran's turn to be shocked. He'd have thought that Osha would have jumped at any chance to be released from her captivity here at Winterfell. He wasn't expecting this at all. He thought that since Osha said once that she believed herself to be a slave here, she'd want to be as far away from this place as possible. Bran looked closely at Osha's mysterious eyes. He hadn't known this woman long, but he felt like he could tell if she was lying or not. From what he could see, there was no deception. She was being completely honest.

At last, Bran found his voice. "But why?" He croaked out, "I…I thought you wanted to leave."

Osha closed her eyes and nodded. "Some time ago, I did," She breathed, slowly opening her eyes to look at the lord, "But I think I'll stay a bit longer." Her smirk returned, "Not sure why, though."

Bran felt two things at that moment; a weight being lifted off of his shoulders, telling him that he had done the right thing, and a warm feeling of relief in his stomach, joy that Osha was staying.

Osha looked very closely at Bran as she spoke again, "Bran, why did ye give me a chance to leave? Why did you give me the chance to be released, boy?"

Bran allowed himself to smile again. The more he had thought about it while Marcala had carried him back to Winterfell, the more the answer to that question became clearer to him. He was a cripple. He lacked the ability to have any type of mobility without someone else's help. That was why.

He decided to let Osha know this. He, without reluctance at all, looked up at her and told her, "I'm crippled, Osha. I can't go anywhere without help. I can't even get to the pond outside without Marcala, Hodor, or you. If it weren't for the fact that I was a Stark heir, I'd be completely without freedom to move around, because there would likely be no one to carry me around. That's almost like slavery. Not being able to go anywhere without someone else is slavery. I don't want anyone else to have to go through that."

Osha's expression didn't change. She just couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from Bran. It was as if she was in shock. Well, to be honest, she was. Osha had never thought of something like this happening before. She knew that the Northerners were more honorable than the Southerners, but this boy….

What he said was true though; if it weren't for the fact that he was an heir of this family, he'd be completely on his own and wouldn't be able to have anyone, save for his peasant family carry him around. Despite Bran being a Stark child, he was practically a prisoner himself, bound to horses in his saddle because he couldn't move his legs, and had to be dependent on others for the rest of his life. Yes, oddly, it made sense that he would understand what being a prisoner was like.

Bran continued, catching Osha's attention again, "When I first met you in the forest, I just saw you as a savage, like everyone else did, but seeing you in chains and thinking that you're enslaved, I know that we are the same."

Osha, were she not calm at the moment, would have felt completely numb at the words she was hearing. An actual lord, a prince, admitting that he was kindred in some way to a mere wildling? She truly had never come across anyone like this boy.

"I never thought I'd hear that from a lord." Osha admitted, cocking her head, still rather impressed with this boy willingly comparing the two situations.

"I'm not a proud lord," Bran said, not wanting anyone to think that he was like that Joffrey Lannister boy, "I know what some children of lords are like and I don't want to be like that. I think I'm starting to hate lords like that, who think that they have the right to everything just because they're the sons of lords."

Osha remained fascinated. If Robb ever died or for some reason and couldn't take the crown, Bran had the makings of a magnificent ruler. Unfortunately, given his disability, his hindrance, his enslavement, he would never be able to pass his blood down to the next generation if he were to ever become ruler. It was a sad, constant reminder.

"Ye know," Osha said quietly, "If it weren't for yer brother, Robb, ye would have the potential to be a great king."

Bran felt a smile come onto his face again. That seemed to be happening a lot nowadays, now that Osha was around. For some reason, he liked hearing her praise him. "I don't want to be king," The boy answered, "Robb's much more fit to be king than I am."

Osha smiled widely. _(And that's why yer fit to be king, Bran.)_ She thought to herself. The sign of a fair and just king was humility.

Bran went on, "Robb will be a powerful ruler and bring justice and a great victory. You've seen the red comet, right?"

Now Osha allowed her head to fall back as she laughed. Well, that was one flaw. Believing that the spirits gave signs to mere _men._ No matter how noble Robb Stark was, he would not win the favor of the old gods.

"Yer a noble child, Bran," She jested, "But ye still have a lot to learn. Gods don't celebrate mortals. I told ye before. That comet's the sign of-"

"Dragons." Bran finished, nodding and smiling, "I know, I know." He rolled his eyes a little at the wildling's superstition, earning a chuckle from the older woman.

Movement from her peripheral vision caught Osha's attention. It was Bran's younger brother, Rickon. She turned her head enough that she was looking both at Bran and at his brother. Rickon was standing between the castle and the stables, his huge wolf Shaggydog standing next to the boy, wagging its tail.

There was something odd about the four year old who was now glaring at them. Osha had heard from Bran that Rickon was getting angry that his family left him, but unlike Bran, this boy's future seemed ominous. Bran had a set of morals and a mind of his own. Rickon only appeared to become more and more angry as time went by. Osha looked back fully at Bran. Rickon would not be a good king. After Robb, Bran was the best suited to be king. Despite that he was paralyzed, he seemed to be his own person, she liked that.

Yet she still felt Rickon's eyes on her and Bran. She glanced to the right and saw Rickon slowly walk away back to the fort's front entrance.

Osha wasn't sure why at that moment, but a part of her had a feeling that she would be remembering both Bran's nobility _and_ Rickon's reaction for a while.

**End Flashback**

**Six Years Later: Present Day:**

Osha now, at the age of twenty-six, looked over at the almost ruined barn which was her, lord Rickon and Shaggydog's new hideaway. She was glancing over her shoulder as well at where the ten-year-old Rickon Stark was practicing shooting his arrows at one of the barn's many rotting boards that were propped up against the doorway.

The boy was getting better at firing arrows every day. Rickon, Osha wouldn't be surprised, might actually be able to shoot an arrow through the slim window of a guarded castle and kill a king if he wished. Her stomach tightened at that thought. Why did that possibility make her so uneasy?

Rickon was about to fire another arrow when he must have felt Osha watching him. He kept his bow and arrow in place, but lifted his head to look over at the wildling woman. An odd smirk appeared on the boy's face. Anyone else would have thought that he was trying to impress her, and Osha wouldn't be surprised if that was half true. But she knew the other reason why he was smirking. She had never forgotten that day when she realized that Bran was a true, destined ruler. And apparently, neither had Rickon.

Perhaps Rickon's paranoia about her preferring his brother to him wasn't as strange as one would think

Rickon had been there that time, standing by the stables, watching Osha's conversation with his brother, Bran and more than likely heard a great deal. Rickon more than likely realized that Osha favored Bran more than anyone else, and he _still _remembered that.

Wanting to break away from these disturbing thoughts, Osha left her perch where she had been sitting on a wooden bannister of shed next to the barn and moved closer to Rickon.

"Is my aim good, Osha?" Rickon asked, still keeping his bow and arrow steady, "As you see, I've improved very well."

Osha tried to give a smile that hid her fears, though she suspected that she was failing, "Yes. Yes, ye are. Soon ye'll be as strong as a knight." Rickon, at that, lowered his bow till the bottom tip was against the ground.

"That thought scares you, doesn't it?" He asked her, his lips pulling back to reveal teeth in an almost frightening grin. Osha felt several of her muscles tense and she felt a shiver run through her. Yes, yes…..Rickon becoming a powerful soldier and eventually a king did indeed scare her. The very thought of it frightened her. Rickon was not meant to be a king, Bran was. If it weren't for Bran's lower torso being completely useless, the boy, who she knew, if he was still alive would be a full grown man now, would have been the ideal king; noble, kind and intelligent, making sure to put his mind first before his feelings.

Rickon was the opposite. His skills were improving but his anger and rage were stronger than ever. His hate came before anything else, including his logic and planning. Rickon would not be a good king, and Osha knew this. But she knew that when Theon Greyjoy took over Winterfell, there was no other choice. She, Hodor and everyone in Winterfell really, had been desperate. Bran or Rickon, a Stark child had to survive to take up the throne.

Bran, she knew, would have made the Starks proud and would have proven just how honorable their family was. But Rickon was full of hate. As a king, Rickon would slaughter everyone in his path, without mercy and unfortunately, he was in her hands.

It scared Osha that Rickon would more than likely one day be king. Bran was suited to be king, Rickon was not. But it was Rickon that would be king and he would be a tyrannical king, an improper king and she realized that there was nothing she could do about it. That was what scared the Wildling. And in that moment, Osha felt more like a slave than she ever had felt when at Winterfell.

"It doesn't matter what I feel," Osha finally answered Rickon avoiding his gaze, "Ye are goin' to one day gain the crown and throne. Ye'll have to defend them as well. So keep practicin.'"

"Oh don't worry," Rickon chuckled, "I will." He observed her carefully before saying in a proud voice, "You know Bran was never nearly as good at shooting arrows as I am now, and he was the same age as I am now when he started practicing."

Osha sucked in her breath. And Rickon's jealousy only fueled her fears.

"I see," She mumbled, "Rickon…..did you hear much whenever yer brother and I talked?"

Now Rickon was giving his full attention to the wildling. He stared right at her, his face suddenly becoming very serious.

"Whenever you and Bran spoke, Osha," He nearly growled out, "Which I know were many times, I was paying very close attention. So I heard a lot. I know you regarded him as the best of us Stark children to be king. You always favored him over me, didn't you? But you're stuck with me." Rickon ended that part once again with an unnerving smile.

Osha shook her head to avoid Rickon's gaze completely.

She knew that Bran would have made a better king, Rickon would never be a good king. And Rickon would always remember that she favored his brother over him, feeding his anger.

"Just get back to practicin,' Rickon." Osha snapped, glaring at the shed where she had been sitting not too long ago.

"Of course." Rickon said casually, as if pretending not to care and turned back to the boards of the barn. Both he and Osha knew better than that, obviously. Rickon knew just as well as Osha what it was that was bothering the wildling. And they both knew also that there was nothing Osha could do to prevent Rickon from excelling to his place as king, even if he wasn't meant to be one.

Rickon knew just as well as Osha did that the wildling was powerless here, and Rickon wanted to enjoy that.

The wild woman narrowed her eyes at the boy as he raised his bow again and pulled his arrow back, ready to fire. That was the difference between Rickon and Bran. Bran was lenient. He would have freed many as a king. He would have been fair and kind. But Rickon abused his power. With Bran, even in Winterfell, Osha had been free. But out here, in the wilderness, where the land was rich in many kingdoms where she could run to, as long as she was with Rickon, she was a slave.

Osha watched Rickon release the arrow from the bow and string and witnessed the arrow fly till it finally hit its mark, dead on as the boy intended. Osha's blood ran cold as she heard Rickon's laugh, and in those moments, Osha suspected that in her whole life, she had never been as afraid of the future as she was now.

**Author's Note:**

**Well, hope everyone liked that. If everyone thought that that was a crack fic, I suppose it's understandable. I like things that are rare and unexpected. And as I've mentioned in my previous fic, "The Future King," Osha fascinates me. It's such a pity that there aren't any fanfictions about her. **

**And as for those that were wondering what the hell that last part was about, you'd have had to read my previous fic, "The Future King," to understand. It's also a crack fic in a way. It's in the "A Song Of Ice And Fire" section, so you'd have to look in the "books" part of fanfiction. **

**You'd have to be open minded to appreciate it.**

**If not, hey this is a crackfic, a WTF fic, so flame me. Just remember, this is a weird fic and in the universe of the books anyway, Osha's been looking after Rickon for a while now, so it just gave me a few twisted ideas. **


End file.
